Four Cornered Triangle
by Exsanguine
Summary: Four lovers, two relationships, two attractions and one way to end them. There is the war between good and wrong and there is the battle of love. Which one would you prefer to win? Love truly is a battlefield.


--Four Cornered Triangle  


The battlefield rang with the deafening crashes of metal on metal as the two armies fought each other, intent on destroying the opposition as quickly yet painfully as they could. Cries of pain and grief penetrated the thunderous air, filling in with the metallic screeches of swords and the musical twang of arrows being released. Soldiers clad in two different colours continued to fall to the ground, the army they were serving long forgotten the instant they drew their last breath. They were dead, useless pieces in the game of war.

Eragon spun around, his sword flashing brilliantly, as he continued to evade the deadly bites of arrows and the sharp blades that exploded around him endlessly. Time was long gone as sweat hung on his limbs, his armour growing heavier with the passing minute. Even so, with his recent transformation, he was more adapted to the burden, which only proved to make him an even deadlier swordsman.

By his side, Saphira attacked ferociously, talons and fangs tainted a deep crimson as in her eye a murderous gleam flickered. A never-ending torrent of fire erupted from her maw, scorching the enemy ranks until their armour was a shining dull black and burnt hot like fresh coals.

Eragon gritted his teeth as he blocked another blow and quickly jabbed the soldier in the stomach with the point of his shield. The man screamed and collapsed to the floor. Eragon's already bloodstained sword came hurtling down into the man's chest, slicing the final life out of him.

He raised his eyes and scanned the horizon. There was no way to tell which side was winning the war; both armies looked almost the same. His eyes flickered to Nasuada as she fought past him, blade twirling dangerously in her hand.

When she caught his eye, she gave him a sly smile and winked before leaping into the oncoming fray again. He sighed as he watched her run away, his heart pounded in his chest. He hoped she would be alright…

-----

Nasuada felt herself being swept into the heart of the battle; anyone in her way was killed. She didn't care about the soldiers of the Empire, she had long ignored the fact that they too were human, forced to do the will of a madman.

An arrow whizzed close to her head and she whipped around, eyes searching the crowds dangerously. A lone archer stood looking rather dismayed and prepared to notch another arrow. He never completed that task.

Nasuada had appeared by his side in a flash, her blade whistling soundlessly through the air, only making it more suspending and threatening. No one noticed the archer fall to the ground, no one ever did. They only had one goal: to survive. And anyone who fell behind…well, they were left behind.

Arya ran past her, eyes determined as she aimed her sword at a man in front of her, as if she was going to throw it. Nasuada's eyes narrowed at the oblivious elf. Arya had caused Eragon so much mental anguish that had she not been working for the Varden, Nasuada would've personally killed her for it.

Scolding herself for being distracted, she jumped away from the dead man and licked her lips. Who could be her next victim? She spotted a Varden member surrounded by a knot of Empire soldiers and instantly ran forwards to aid him.

-----

Where was Murtagh? Was he such a coward that he feared to meet Eragon again in battle? Eragon swept his gaze around the battlefield once more, hoping to find Murtagh but to no avail. The traitor wasn't here. At least that made his job slightly easier.

Focusing again on the huge crimson wave of soldiers, Eragon leapt into battle, sword held high as he began to slash through the ranks. His fury towards Galbatorix kept him going, a searing anger gripped his stomach as a beast within his chest was released. As he beheaded yet another solider, a howl of triumph tore out of his lips, sounding rather inhuman and resembled one of a madman. But perhaps he was going mad…there was really no way of telling.

-----

Murtagh sat stiffly on Thorn's back, his mind open; searching for enemies and ready to take on any assaults that may come flying his way. They were nearing the battlefields; he will need to be on his guard.

Eragon would most likely be there, and he will be shown no mercy this time. Galbatorix had gone to great lengths to ensure that the same mistake wouldn't be made again. He flexed his gloved hand, watching the metal rings slid over his fingers. And this time, he will crush the living life out of him if it was necessary.

The wind whistled harshly past his ears, he wondered if it would make him go deaf. He leant over Thorn's back so that his chest was just resting on Thorn's spikes, trying to lessen the friction that slowed their progress.

_Faster…we're almost there._

-----

Arya ran past Eragon, her elven grace allowing her to remain perfectly agile and energetic even after three consecutive hours of war. She seemed to flow with the battle yet not be in it at the same time. Her strength was unmatched on the field and the soldiers of the Empire had trouble even finding time to lift their swords to block her deadly attacks.

Eragon shook his head and looked away from her. He had decided long ago to forget about her, to lock away his attraction for her so far back that it didn't matter. And he had almost succeeded. He knew he would always love Arya but now his heart belongs to Nasuada. He didn't understand why he never saw Nasuada for who she was before; she was a lot better than Arya in comparison. While Arya had only given him heartache, Nasuada had given him love.

And for that, he will fight.

Sparks exploded around him as he engaged himself in the fiery dance of battle. The clashing that exploded around him was so loud it almost deafened him. It was so earsplitting that he could barely hear the majesty roar of a quick approaching dragon.

Murtagh was here.

-----

Arya looked down at the man she had just killed. She quietly pulled her sword out of the man's neck, a hard place to strike someone successfully. The warriors around her continued to fall and weaken yet she still felt alive. No one could stop her.

Nasuada flashed past her and Arya felt a twinge of annoyance. The leader of the Varden seemed intent on making sure she understood that Eragon was having a better relationship with her than with Arya. But she didn't care; Nasuada could have Eragon for as long as she wanted…she didn't want him anyway.

But why was she feeling like this? She couldn't explain why but still, she cared for him. Her heart fluttered when she saw him and her mind constantly wandered off to him especially during such life threatening times…and with him being with Nasuada didn't stop the feelings, on the other hand, they had gotten worse. She couldn't be jealous, could she?

In her anger, she stabbed another soldier through the chest with much more force than usual and proceeded to pull the sword out. Unfortunately, the sword seemed content to stay jammed in the various links on the man's armour. Cursing slightly at the delay, Arya bent down and began to tug the stubborn blade out of the chain mail, completely oblivious to the three soldiers watching her intently from a few metres away…

-----

Arya finally managed to yank her blade free. She stepped up and distastefully wiped the thin blade of metal on the sleeve of the fallen soldier. The blood didn't look good on her blade, not that it did on anyone else's either.

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as she felt the presence of three men quietly approaching her. They really had no idea. She swung her sword around, moving it in such a quick arch that it may not have happened and ran the first man through the heart with it. She quickly drew her sword out and turned, ready to proceed to the next man.

Suddenly, a searing pain laced through her stomach and she felt her knees weaken. She coughed and the metallic taste of blood washed into her mouth. She sank to her knees and looked down, a blade; the colour of the night sky was sticking out from her armour. God, the soldier must've broken at least one of her ribs from the force of the blow.

Her surroundings swayed and she fell forward, spots danced before her eyes. She gave a cry of pain as the man yanked the sword out of her again. Clearly, he didn't notice she was still alive. She didn't know if this was a good thing or bad.

-----

The soldier pulled his sword out of the elf in amazement. In his whole entire life of training under Galbatorix's reign, he had never dreamt of being able to slay an elf. They were said to be extremely hard to kill, because they were highly skilled in both magic and sword. Yet still, he had killed this one.

His mates laughed and clapped him on the back, clearly approving of his action. He knew the King would as well. Yet why didn't he feel any better about it? There was something about that act that seemed wrong…

His mind continued to ponder, while his body refused to work as his thoughts were somewhere else. This proved the advantage another member of the Varden needed and ran him through with their blade.

He thought no more.

-----

Eragon was about to jump onto Saphira when he had heard a cry of pain. One he recognized as his own. He leapt back onto the ground and looked around him, pleading and hoping that it wasn't Nasuada or Arya…

But it was.

He saw Arya lying on the ground, blood dripping from a wound inflicted in her stomach. Her face was pale and drenched in sweat, sword lying rather abandoned by her waist. A pang of love sprang unbidden to his mind which he instantly pushed away.

He walked over to Arya's side and took a quick look at her wound, without speaking to her once. The less contact with her, the easier it will be to let her go later on. Nasuada knew this; he could sense her fierce gaze nearby.

He felt guilty for not caring about Arya anymore, or even thinking about her. He had single handedly asked her to come to the battle, without even thinking of safety once even though he knew Arya would just dismiss his action.

He began to fumble with the interlocking pieces of Arya's armour and pulled it off to reveal a gleaming wound, but to get to it all, he would have to move her tunic higher… "God, I can't do this," he muttered to himself, hand hesitantly hovering over the bottom of Arya's tunic. Arya just rolled her eyes.

Another cry filled the air and Eragon whipped around again to see Nasuada fall, a few metres away from Arya. Dread clutched at Eragon's stomach. Both Arya and Nasuada were down…who would he assist?

He had always loved Arya but his heart belonged to Nasuada… "Forgive me, Arya," Eragon murmured, eyes kept downcast as he got slowly to his feet. He called over a Varden member to go get a healer while he attended Nasuada.

-----

Pain shadowed Arya's eyes as she watched Eragon move away from her. He hadn't even looked her in the eye. She didn't know if Nasuada's action was deliberate or not but it didn't look too serious…She sighed and lay her head down against the cool ground. Why was life so cruel?

Her eyes followed the progress of the Varden member Eragon had called to summon a healer. She didn't have to look very far; he was lying on the ground, dead.

Her chest throbbed painfully, she knew her time was almost up…yet she wanted to hold on still. She didn't know why but she knew it would be for the best. Something good was bound to come out of all this evil...

Wincing, she carefully raised the upper half of her body off the ground, trembling from the effort.

Spots flickered across her line of vision and finally giving up; she collapsed to the ground again, savoring the soothing feel of the cold earth. Then her eyes flickered closed and everything went black.

-----

Murtagh watched Eragon as he descended towards the ground. He felt a seething loath build up inside him as he watched Eragon abandon Arya and move onto Nasuada. Didn't he have priorities? Even Murtagh could tell from this distance that Arya was more hurt than Nasuada…

His eyes swept over to Arya and he felt his gaze soften. Since her rescue, he had felt something towards her. But it would never work…not if he continued to serve Galbatorix. His heart gave a throb as he watched her, lying almost peacefully had it not been for the deep crimson that pooled around her like a blanket.

Murtagh's gaze fixed on Eragon again. His muscles bunched as he decided what he was going to do. He will take Eragon straight to Galbatorix. This time, he will not tarry like last time. On their last meeting, he had no reason to capture Eragon. This time he had.

He was going to do it for Arya.

-----

Eragon held Nasuada close to him, unsure if she was alright or not. With a guilty pang, he remembered how he had felt this way last time towards Arya when he had just escaped from Gil'ead with her. _How time travels fast,_ he mused, thinking of how quick he was to change between Arya to Nasuada.

Nasuada leant forwards and squinted into the horizon. Eragon followed her gaze and saw Murtagh and Thorn rapidly approaching. The Empire ranks cheered and raised their swords at their appearance, Eragon wished for them to shut up.

He felt Nasuada tense against his body; he knew exactly what was going through her mind. Murtagh, the man she had thought she had loved and had loved her had turned out to be the traitor.

Eragon's feelings of personal hatred towards Murtagh were abandoned as pity for Nasuada's accidental feelings overwhelmed him. He followed Murtagh with a cold eye; Murtagh could come to him if he wanted to fight. But in the end, he will win.

He was going to win for Nasuada.

-----

Arya felt herself slipping into unconsciousness. _Oh no, not now…I need to warn Eragon that Murtagh's approaching, he can't stay with Nasuada forever._ She tried again to push herself upright when a gloved hand suddenly appeared in her field of vision.

"Need a hand?" Murtagh spoke.

The traitor's son…the traitor himself was offering her help! Arya couldn't believe it; she turned her head away from him and refused to look at him. What was he doing, trying to help her when he was supposed to be fighting for Galbatorix?

"Suit yourself," Murtagh said. For a split second, Arya thought he was going to leave her but instead, he bent down and picked her off the ground.

"What…?" Arya whispered her voice so weak it was barely audible. She writhed in his arms, trying to break free to no avail.

Murtagh cut her off. "Eka un mulabra ono un." I mean you no harm.

Arya was feeling even more confused now. Since when did the Empire mean her no harm? Yet still, she knew she could trust him…he had spoken in the Ancient Language. She wasn't given much more time to consider the statement however, as Murtagh quickly retreated to the side of the battle, away from the action. No one seemed to notice them. The Empire troops didn't attack, for they were on the same side as Murtagh yet the Varden didn't attack either, he had Arya with him. Why was this all so confusing?

Just as another soldier sped past, Arya caught a glimpse of Eragon; he was staring at Murtagh with his jaw clenched. He looked almost feral.

-----

He gently laid Arya down and wordlessly began healing her wounds. Throughout the whole spell, Arya continued to eye Murtagh wearily. How was it that she recognized him yet didn't at the same time?

She could tell Murtagh was incredibly strong; the spell didn't take long to complete its task. When he had finished, he leant back and sat on the floor leisurely, acting as if he hadn't just used a powerful healing spell.

Arya loved him for that.

"Why are you helping me?" Arya asked Murtagh, eyes never leaving his.

Murtagh laughed, she loved the sound. "Since the day I met you, I've wanted to help."

Arya frowned in confusion. "But this is the first day we've met."

A spark of anger ignited in Murtagh's chest. _Hadn't Eragon told her that he had come to rescue her?_ When he worded his thought, Arya just shook her head. He gritted his teeth in frustration. Who did Eragon think he was, hiding the truth like that? There isn't always just one hero in the story…

"Why are you helping us?"

Arya's question brought Murtagh out of his reverie. "I'm not…I can't. Even if I wanted to, Galbatorix has prevented me from doing so. Even the soldiers here have more freedom than me." He gave a mirthless laugh as he looked into the distance.

"Then why are you doing this?" Arya continued, indicating herself.

Murtagh's face flushed, and he looked down to avoid Arya's piercing gaze. How could he tell her? He had loved her since he carried her out of the cell in Gil'ead yet he had barely known her. Even so, a burning desire continued to rage inside him, he knew there was something between them. He just couldn't name it.

"Let me show you," he replied quietly.

Arya raised an eyebrow. "Very well then."

Murtagh closed his eyes and pressed a palm to Arya's brow. He shuddered from the touch; Arya had always filled him with a sense of attraction, seducing and haunting. He allowed her to immerse in the very heart of his soul, so she could understand him in the brief precious minutes they had right now, he never knew when his chance would come again.

Arya too was feeling more open than she had for a long time. Murtagh was exactly like her, his life a perfect reflection of her own…they could get on so well. They both deserved it, after suffering so much.

After he pulled away from her, he saw a look of surprise on her face. "Well?" he asked her cautiously.

But Arya wasn't looking at him, she was looking further out behind his back where Eragon had forgotten all about war and was kissing Nasuada passionately, as if the swords around them meant nothing.

"You are a much better man than Eragon is," she whispered bitterly.

Murtagh smiled.

-----

Eragon quickly pulled himself away from Nasuada. "What are you doing?" he stampered. "We're in the middle of battle right now."

"Yes, I know that," Nasuada breathed. "But I wanted your comfort." Had he been looking, she was looking over to where Arya was sitting with Murtagh. Nasuada gritted her teeth.

Eragon sighed as he looked down at Nasuada. "Hold on." He swept his sword around and stabbed an approaching soldier through the chest. The man fell to the ground. "I promise you I will bring you comfort, I will kill the man who broke your heart."

Nasuada smiled at Eragon.

"You are a much better man than Murtagh is," she replied, lips just brushing Eragon's.

"Thank you, I will be back soon…hopefully," Eragon said.

"Are you sure you have to do this?" Nasuada asked, worry evident in her voice.

Eragon looked down. "Aye, it is. I know, it hurts for us both to do this but this is the way things are…it is in both our futures."

"I just don't want to see you two cut each other to ribbons."

"Then don't." Nasuada was surprised by the tone in Eragon's voice. Before she knew what was happening, Eragon pointed a finger at her and whispered, "Slytha."

Blackness engulfed her and Nasuada found herself falling into the mysteries of sleep. After taking a final look at her, Eragon turned around and shifted his sword into a more ready position. With his mind set, he marched over to where Murtagh was crouching by Arya's side.

-----

Arya watched as Eragon approached, sword drawn and held in hand. Murtagh, sensing her sudden unease, looked back and saw Eragon. When he turned back to face her, there was a look of silent despair in his eyes.

"I must," he whispered, still watching Arya.

Arya felt her heart break. Why was it that the innocent always had the worst tasks? "Isn't there any way to avoid it?" she asked.

Murtagh considered her for a moment. "No." He got off the floor and unsheathed Zar'roc. She watched him as he took a step away then turned around to face her again.

"In case I don't see you again…I love you."

She gazed at him sadly, she felt as if he was walking away from her forever. How long ago was it since she had felt this way? Since the night Faolin died…hopefully she was wrong this time.

Murtagh leant forward and kissed his fingers and planted them on her forehead. Arya shuddered as the cool metal touched her skin, but she didn't care. Murtagh, she concluded, was much more mature with his actions than Eragon.

"I don't want to see you die," Arya whispered quietly.

Murtagh laughed. "Do you think I want to either?"

"I can tell him…I can tell Eragon that you have been misunderstood," Arya almost begged him. Why she loved him so much, she didn't know. She barely knew the man yet maybe that was the reason...she wanted to experience something she had never tried before, to break away from the things she was used to...to be free from her duties.

"Don't bother, he'll never understand. This is the way things have to be."

"No…I don't want to see it end."

"Then don't," Murtagh spoke quietly before pointing at Arya. "Slytha."

Arya felt unconsciousness press in all around her. _No! Murtagh! Don't do this!_ She cried out in her mind, when exactly on que, the spell took her body away and she drifted into a black restless sleep. Murtagh gently brushed a few strays of her hair away from her face, savoring her touch for perhaps the last time. 

With that, he was gone.

-----

Eragon and Murtagh stood opposite each other, swords drawn and held by their sides, waiting for the other to move. Saphira and Thorn prowled in the back, behind their Riders, ready to protect them if the need arises.

The stifling heat of the battlefield made it hard to concentrate, Eragon's mind felt woozy after so many hours fighting and defending. Murtagh was still newly revived after only appearing in battle now yet he was already baring the punishing heat of the hot sun.

They stood there, silently, as the soundless wind rippled around their bodies, engaged in the war between the Varden and the Empire. What they both didn't know was that they were also engaged in another battle.

The battle of love.

"Stay away from Arya," Eragon hissed. "We don't need your help."

"Is that so? If I haven't forgotten, no one was helping her at all," Murtagh rebutted.

"Aye, that may be true, but someone was bound to help her in the end…but not from the traitor. You chose evil over good…your heart cannot be in two places."

Murtagh gritted his teeth in frustration. "And does that go for you, Eragon? Seems like your heart belongs to two sides as well. Two _people_ to be exact."

Eragon didn't reply.

Then Eragon struck forward, leaping at Murtagh's right shoulder. Murtagh brought his sword up to meet Eragon's in a shower of sparks. They twisted apart and prepared themselves just as momentum whirled them back together again.

Eragon didn't know how long they were fighting for but the next thing he knew, he had disarmed Murtagh. Murtagh stared at his unprotected arm in surprise just as Eragon grabbed Zar'roc's hilt and swung the sword right through Murtagh's heart.

Murtagh gave a bellow of pain, which echoed throughout the whole battlefield. Thorn roared in agony and crawled over to his Rider. "Like father, like son," Eragon said bitterly as he released Zar'roc's hilt as if it were poisonous. Murtagh sank to his knees, a fine trickle of blood dribbling down the front of his armour.

Nasuada flung herself towards Eragon, embracing him, tears in her eyes. "Is it over?" she asked.

"It is."

-----

Arya stirred and blearily opened her eyes. From what sounded like quite some distance, she heard the Varden give a roar of triumph. "No…" she murmured as she struggled to her feet. Clutching slightly at her still sore stomach, she staggered over to where the noise was coming from.

Eragon and Nasuada were embracing as the Varden members cheered while managing to slay the troops from the Empire at the same time. Her heart gave a lurch as she looked down and saw Murtagh's pale shape lying on the ground.

Eragon watched as Arya quietly made her way over to Murtagh's side and crouch down besides him. His insides burned with fury yet he didn't allow it to show.

_So it was true…_Arya thought miserably as she crouched down by Murtagh's side. His eyes…full of radiant power and youth before looked worn now. He had hardly any time left… 

"Let me heal you," she said, wrapping her fingers around Zar'roc bloodied blade. _Bloodied only by his own blood,_ she thought with pity. No warrior no matter how strong or weak deserved to die with his own blood on his blade…

"No…leave it." 

Tears sprang to Arya's eyes. "Why?" 

"Eragon is right…my heart cannot be in two places. While I survive, I must serve Galbatorix yet a part of me will always love you…leave me so that my heart can be whole again," Murtagh whispered painfully.

Arya's heart hammered in her chest, as she looked down at the man that was so misunderstood. "Very well, if that's what you wish. But let me give you a final gift," she whispered and leant down.

She gently brought her lips down onto his, kissing him passionately yet softly. When they broke apart, Murtagh sighed and closed his eyes, just as a faint smile lifted his mouth.

He was gone…the feelings that she felt towards his death was overwhelming. She never had before felt as strongly as this. No one had understood her, but Murtagh did. He didn't belong with others, he was rejected by his own kind and he was an outcast, just like her. With him gone, she felt even more alone in the world. And it was all Eragon's fault. Why was he always so ignorant?

Trembling slightly, Arya got up. How many more that she loved or loved her had to die in this endless war? She was about to walk off when she saw Eragon make his way towards her. He opened his mouth to speak, but she didn't want to listen.

She turned her back and walked away.

-----

The commanding officer saw it all happen, the two Riders battling then their Rider being killed. The King would be furious, yet he would be more furious if his whole army was destroyed. Sudden fear gripped him, what were they going to do without the Rider? All magicians had been killed, leaving them as vulnerable as sitting ducks.

"Surrender and retreat!" he bellowed over the clashing of swords. All around him, soldiers were retreating back, into their camp. The Varden gave a bellow of victory.

He averted his eyes.

-----

It was only many hours after the battle that Arya returned to the place where Murtagh was killed. Thorn lay nearby, his muscles still strained from his final effort to make his way to his Rider's side.

Arya took Murtagh gently in her arms, tears burning in the back of her eyes. That was it, nothing in this world was worth living for…everything or everyone she loved had either died or faded away from her. All she saw was more bloodshed in the future.

She propped Murtagh against her chest, his back felt cold and lifeless against the tunic she wore under her armour. She wrapped one arm around his neck the other fingering Zar'roc's blade which was still stabbed hard into his heart.

"Maybe this isn't the place where we're supposed to meet…maybe we are destined together some place off where no one can say no towards us," she whispered, looking into the fast disappearing sun.

"They say sunset is the most romantic time of day, but what is the point if you have lost your loved one?"

A soft wind picked up and whipped around her face. "We will meet again, Murtagh." With that, she wrapped her fingers around Zar'roc's blade and pushed it in further. She gasped as the red blade bit into her flesh and shot through her own heart. The heart that was already broken too many times.

She closed her eyes and her head fell onto Murtagh's shoulder.

-----

Eragon stepped out just as he watched Arya stab herself through the heart. Tears leaked out from under his eyelids. "Why did you do this for Murtagh, Arya? He didn't deserve you…"

He walked over to the two lovers connected by the same blade that had killed them and crouched down beside her. He felt as if he had killed his two best friends and one possible lover with just the accursed sword of Zar'roc. Misery...The sword's name really did fit with it well. If Murtagh had lived…would Arya?

"What have I done?" he whispered hoarsely.

Now the tears flowed freely down his face. He may have won the war for the Varden, but he had lost this battle.

He had lost the battle of love.

And by losing that, he had lost his friends.

That cost him more than anything else.

--Author's Note--

Yup, I decided to put up another story from SFF here… Hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
